Mortal Love, Immortal Tears
by Marishna
Summary: When Spike's mom, Joyce, dies he doesn't know how to handle it. Buffy has only come into existence seven days after Joyce's death to help Spike through his pain. Both learn hard truths about life and love. WIP Part 5 up!
1. Prologue

So here it is. The start of a new fic. This was an idea that popped into my head a few months ago and wouldn't let go. I've had the ending written for quite a while, so I actually know where it's going for once, LOL. I'm hoping this is going to be a short-long fic (know what I mean? Long but in a short way?) so I can get it done in a reasonable amount of time. I know, I know. You're all thinking- Mari? Reasonable? I can be. Really. Anyway, I have a site now too! It's not DONE done, but it's getting there, Check it out- h t t p : / / w w w . still- believe . com / marishna (just no spaces like I have here, I don't know how to update my profile so I can't stick it in there.). So go, look, comment, read. I have a tagboard for everyone to make comments on *hint hint*, so come on over! . . . . . ***** Prologue ****** . . .  
  
Door open. Door close. One foot in front of the other. Go slow, don't want to do anything rash. Keep it strong. Up the stairs. Don't look at the pictures. Keep going. One, two, one, two. Up, down, up, down. Slow and steady. It's okay. Pause at the top. Take a deep breath. Don't look in the room. Keep going, one foot in front of the other. Door open. Door close. The bed. Beds are nice. Soft, and comfortable. Like her arms. Like her eyes. Like her hair. Like her coffin.  
  
Breathe. In, out, in, out. Everything will be fine. One day at a time. Have to be there for him. Have to be strong. Have to keep it together. One foot in front of the other. Have to be strong.  
  
Door open. Door closed tight now. No one will come through it now. Slow and steady. Keep it together. For him. For everyone else. One foot in front of the other. Keep it strong. Look in the mirror. Stupid bleached hair. Doesn't seem right anymore. She loved it. Keep it strong. You can do this. You can be strong. For everyone but yourself.  
  
**Who will be strong for me?**  
  
"AUGHHHH!!!"  
  
Smashing glass. Shattering like glass should. Like lives can. Not a crack, a smash. All at once. The image is broken. The face is taken away. She is taken away.  
  
Blood. More blood. Too much blood. Not enough blood. Her blood is gone.  
  
SHE is gone.  
  
Crying. Don't cry. Have to be strong. Have to keep it together for everyone. Have to put one foot in front of the other and be strong. Be tall and strong and..  
  
"Who will be strong for **me**?!?!" A cry in the dark, anguished and alone for the first time.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"He's so angry," a feminine voice said quietly.  
  
"Yes. Mortals get that way when another dies," a male voice replied to her.  
  
"Don't they take comfort in knowing that their spirit lives on? That they will exist forever?"  
  
"Mortals have attachments to physical things. Things they can see, touch, smell, taste. Things they can feel."  
  
"But he is feeling now. Feeling anger, and hurt, and sadness. Why?"  
  
"Because he has lost something he can no longer hold. He will never know the mortal love of his mother again."  
  
"Mortals are strange. They hold dear to them things that will be lost or gone, not what is eternal."  
  
"They do not realize that this is eternal. He will see her again, sometime in the future, but it does not lessen the pain of waiting that long."  
  
"How does it stop? How does he make the anger and pain go away?"  
  
"He waits. He works through it. He makes amends. He loves someone else."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When he is ready."  
  
"What if he is never ready?"  
  
"Then he is angry forever."  
  
"But he is too special to waste his time like that. I have been watching him for so long. I can see how special he is. His mother knew it, told him. How could he throw that away?"  
  
"Mortals never throw away their talents. They just let them fade away. He might not let his fade however. He is just lost right now."  
  
"How can he be found?"  
  
"With help, love, understanding and being strong. He is strong, you know that."  
  
"Yes, he is. I love watching over him. He has been the best mortal yet that I have watched over. He glows."  
  
"You feel emotion for him."  
  
"We're supposed to. To know a mortal is to feel for him. I just wish I knew how to deal with it. I feel his pain, his anger. I feel horrible and I want it to stop."  
  
"It will. It may take some time however."  
  
"You said he could be helped."  
  
"He can, if he wants it. If the right people offer it."  
  
"I want to help him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I have been watching far too long. How can I be any good to him if all I do is watch over him and prevent him from serious harm before it is his time? Others help who they watch. I know it, you cannot say it isn't done."  
  
"You're right, I can't. It doesn't mean that you are going to, however."  
  
"Why not? I feel for him, I hurt with him, I want to know how to stop it. I want to be better for him."  
  
"You may be feeling too much for him."  
  
"I only feel with what the Powers that Be give me. I only know the emotions he has, how can I **not** feel too much? It makes me better, stronger, more resourceful. Please, let me help him."  
  
Her pleas proved to be too much for him. "How do you wish to help him? What form of happiness should be have? Send him to a good college? Perhaps try and alleviate some of his guilt somehow? Send him someone that he can turn to in his hour of need?"  
  
"Yes! That's it. Someone needs to be there, to help him, comfort him. He is very lonely. And I want that person to be me." She was hesitant in this, knowing that he would be upset.  
  
"No! Absolutely not! That is very much against protocol. You are not to get involved in his life. Only help him from afar, and influence his life in subtle ways. You **know** the rules."  
  
"I also know that this has happened before. This is not unheard of and in extreme circumstances it is allowed."  
  
"This is hardly an extreme circumstance."  
  
"You can't feel it. You don't know. He is scarring himself, from the inside out. And he will act on it. Please, feel his rage." She reached out, a silver thread connecting to him, his essence. She could feel it suck him in, connecting him to her, and in turn, to the male below them, watching blood seep out of his knuckles.  
  
"Oh, my."  
  
"Yes. This cannot go on. **He** cannot go on. Let me help him."  
  
"You do know what you are getting yourself into, don't you?"  
  
"I'm prepared to do whatever I can."  
  
"The mortal life is more than emotions and watching people. You must participate if you will help. It is a hard, cold life. It is full of obstacles and hurtful things, including other people. It will be a shock."  
  
"I don't care. I **must** help him."  
  
"You know the rules. Once you go there, you can only come back once. There are no do overs. Our influence can alter their lives in ways more powerful than even we can grasp. Once you come back, you cannot interfere with his existence again, only from this position to look over him."  
  
"I won't need more than one time. I'll get it right. I'll set him back on the right track. He can be a good man. I know he can. We just have to let him."  
  
"Alright. Because this is your first mission, of sorts, and you are naïve to their ways I am going to help **you.** Call on me if you need me, and I'm giving you some extra powers to keep yourself safe in case you need them. Use them well and remember what I said - once down and once back. And don't get wrapped up in their life. You are needed here."  
  
"Thank you. I will help him, you will see."  
  
The male entity sighed heavily. "Very well. You shall be mortal. Now, go before I change my mind." 


	2. Where is the Love?

Part 1: Where is the Love?  
A/N: Thanks for Magz for betaing this for me!  
See Prologue for summary, disclaimer, rating, etc.  
PLEASE REVIEW! . . . .  
  
He was awkakened by knocking - no, pounding - at his door. Then again, the pounding could've been his hangover announcing itself.  
  
"William? Are you in there?"  
  
Spike Rayne rolled over and stared at the glowing digits which glared back at him, unmercifully. Almost noon. When had he gone to bed? Had it been before or after he'd stumbled into the bathroom to heave? And what had caused him to pray to the porcelain gods? His gaze fell on the empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Oh right. That. Good old JD, his best friend when the chips were down, but it never stuck around when jusice was meted out.  
  
"William!" The voice and pounding came again. Spike rolled over again and buried his head in the pillows, hoping to muffle the echoing throb in his head.  
  
"I swear to God William. If you - " the pounding interrupted the person's shouting.  
  
"Come in." He turned again, careful not to move his head too much.  
  
The door opened slowly, as if cautious of what would be behind it. A head peeked around carefully and assessed the situation of the room.  
  
"Bloody hell! What IS that smell?" Ethan Rayne stepped inside and looked around. Perhaps it was the stench of alcohol that permeated the air. Or maybe it was the week-old pile of dirty clothes and moldy towels accumulating in the corner... or it could have been the mountain of plates and cups in the sink with food and liquids stuck in them. Maybe it was a mix of all these foul things, but whatever it was, it was causing Ethan's stomach to let out a warning gurgle.  
  
"William, aren't you going to do something about this mess?" Ethan moved to step deeper into the room, but stopped himself. He had no intention of navigating the mess of dirty clothes bombs and sock landmines that littered the room.  
  
"Maybe someday," came Spike's disinterested reply.  
  
"Come on, Will. You have to get out of bed. Or at least take a shower, change your sheets. Something."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Whatever," Spike muttered, turning over so he could grab his cigarettes from the bedside table. He sat up carefully, not wanting to shake his head too much and lit one up. He leaned back over the bed to grab an old plate to flick his ashes on and nearly fell out. He caught himself in time and righted his body, plate in hand.  
  
Ethan just shook his head. "I'm worried about you, son."  
  
"Don't call me that," Spike muttered, taking a long drag.  
  
"Don't use a term of endearment towards my own flesh and blood? Am I wrong in that assessment?"  
  
"Very, mate. Endearment is something people who actually care about you feel," Spike threw at him.  
  
"Do we need to have this discussion now?" Ethan sighed.  
  
"It's a fight and no we don't. I'd much rather set it aside for later and let it fester and build up until the unsaid words unleash themselves in a violent outpouring. Can't wait. You probably can't either, seeing as how I learned all that from you."  
  
"Dammit, Will! What can I do to help you?"  
  
"Nothing! No, wait... You can leave." He stubbed his cigarette out, leaving the plate on the bed. He struggled out of bed, his vision swimming a little. When he stood up he was grateful he had passed out in bed in his jeans, as confronting his absentee father stark naked would not have strengthened his argument much.  
  
"You know I'm not going to leave. It's only been a week since your mother passed and you need help," Ethan watched as his son staggered around the room, hungover and likely still half drunk.  
  
"Not from you, I don't," Spike rummaged around in his dresser for another bottle of JD. When he finally found it he twisted the cap off and took a gulp, liking the way it burned on the way down. Liking that he could feel something at all.  
  
Ethan stared at Spike in disgust and pity while filling with rage. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He strode across the room and grabbed the bottle from Spike.  
  
"S'my booze! Give it back!" Spike tried to grab the bottle back. The two men struggled over it before Ethan wrenched it away and hurled it against the bedroom door. It smashed into a hundred pieces sending liquor splashing everywhere.  
  
"You bastard! You broke my alcohol!" Spike yelled.  
  
Ethan just stood, almost defeated. "Good," he replied. "Maybe now you can sober up and start being a real man."  
  
"What would you know about being a real man?" Spike pushed past him, stepping through the shattered glass at the door, uncaring if he got hurt. "You ran out on us, remember? On her?"  
  
"This isn't the time, Will."  
  
"Don't call me that!" he screamed.  
  
"It's your name," Ethan said calmly.  
  
"Not for you. You don't get to call me that. You will NEVER get to call me that. I don't need you here. I'm of age. I don't need a guardian or parental authority! I don't need you trying to be a father to me fifteen years too late!"  
  
"You need me and I am staying. You're throwing yourself down a hole and soon you won't be able to get out,"  
  
"Fine. Then leave me here to rot. I'll dig that hole next to her. At least she wouldn't be alone," Spike bit out before turning and walking into the bathroom and slamming the door. He waited, listening as Ethan gave a big sigh and started down the stairs.  
  
Spike exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and relaxed a little, noticing for the first time that he was shaking. He stumbled to the mirror and stared at himself, wondering what the hell had happened to him. His hair was messy and matted to his head from not being washed or brushed all week. His eyes were beyond bloodshot and they protruded slightly. His cheekbones stood out a little more than usual leaving his face looking gaunt and starved. His general skin tone was poor, having taken on an almost grey look to it from all the alcohol and very little fresh air or sunlight.  
  
He stumbled to the shower and climbed in after shedding his clothes, taking first a quick cold shower to wake him up followed by a longer hot one to wash the stench and filth from his body. **Too bad it can't wash everything away,** he thought.  
  
Mechanically he scrubbed his body, rubbing it almost raw in some areas. As he got down to his legs and feet he noticed that the water running down the drainpipe was tinted red. At the same moment he felt the cuts in his feet start to send sharp pains through his legs from walking through the glass. He finished his shower quickly and got out of the tub as carefully as he could. He took out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and sat on the toilet to inspect his feet.  
  
He had cut his feet up fairly bad, glass still stuck in a couple areas. As he worked at extracting the glass, disinfecting and bandaging his cuts he realized he was feeling pain. A horrible feeling, yes, but a feeling for him nonetheless.  
  
He wrapped himself in a towel and walked back to his room gingerly to get dressed. When he opened the door and the smell hit him he understood what Ethan had been complaining about Dressing quickly, he took his dirty dishes to the kitchen, careful to avoid his father before returning to his room to open the windows. As he cleaned up the spilled whiskey and glass, mourning the quick escape from his harsh reality. As this thought crossed his mind it shook him to know he was thinking that way.  
  
"That's it. I'm stopping this crap," he vowed to himself. He made a quick decision that for once in his life his father was right and he did need to get out of this room. It was a gorgeous, typical California day outside and he needed to do something. Anything.  
  
So he picked up his short black jacket, threw on his boots without tying them and thudded down the stairs. As he reached the door he heard Ethan calling to him from the kitchen.  
  
"Will? Are you going out?" He could hear the water running and the clink of glasses in the sink and knew that he was doing his dishes. For a moment he felt bad about acting like such a spoiled brat.  
  
"For a walk," he called back.  
  
"Anywhere in particular?" Ethan asked.  
  
He almost turned to go to the kitchen so he could talk to him face-to- face but he caught a glimpse of the 'family' picture of he and his mother taken six years ago when he had been starting his senior year in high school and he set his jaw in a hard line.  
  
"No," he yelled back and left the house, the door slamming behind him.  
  
He was off the porch and down the stairs before he realized how bright it was outside and he had to throw his hand up to shield his eyes. After a week in his dark, smelly room this was a shock to his system. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the bright sunshiney day and started off down the sidewalk, with no real rhyme or reason to his path.  
  
As he passed the neighbor's house he barely registered the large moving van and 'sold' sign posted at the front of the yard. His mom would have liked having new people next door. It had been so long since that house had been occupied. She would have baked a cake or pie and taken it over to them tonight with the offer of a homecooked meal or free tickets to an opening at her gallery that she ran downtown.  
  
So much for that. There wouldn't be anymore baked goods or special cheesy potatoes or warmed sheets when he was sick. No more laughter or smell of her shampoo wafting into his room on the air from the bathroom. None of it. Things had already started changing. He had basically turned his life a 180 in this past week, going from a fun-loving, handsome, joking all around good guy to a wasted, pale, moody and depressed loser. He didn't want his absentee father there with him and he would rather drop dead like his mother than have Ethan run things from here on in. He didn't know what was planned for the house or any of her belongings, or the gallery. He had missed the reading of the will due to the quart of vodka that he'd downed after the funeral. The next day was a blur as that was when he got into the liquor cabinet in the den and had found the rum and brandy. He had never been up to asking Ethan what he had been left in the will or what it had said. He could wait for that.  
  
He wandered aimlessly for the next hour, staying away from the busier streets in the small town of Sunnydale. He was well known by everyone as is mother was very popular and he didn't feel up to making nice with the majority of the town yet. That could wait as well. He knew he had to get himself together and write some thank you notes or make some calls but he couldn't bring himself to do it yet. Because that would mean she was really truly gone and there was nothing more he could do for her. He could wait for that forever.  
  
He hadn't been watching where he was going and when he finally clued in he found himself standing at the main gate of the Sunnydale cemetery. He took a deep breath and walked in, making a slow beeline for her.  
  
**For her GRAVE,** he corrected himself as he made his way to a newly carved tombstone, set near the side and back slightly from the mass of other graves. She was close enough to the trees that it shaded her a little from the bright morning sun and got the late afternoon heat, and she was secluded enough that not just anyone could see her. He had picked the spot. He hadn't wanted her to be gawked at by everyone in the town and he certainly didn't want any dumb oaf walking over her grave.  
  
He stood at the end of her plot, looking down at it as if it were foreign to him. The last time he'd been here it had been an empty hole with her casket slowly being lowered into it. This was a grassy, lush place that looked as if it had been here for years. But it hadn't. She had been here, with him, two weeks ago. Smiling and admonishing him and encouraging him, laughing and teasing and talking and singing and driving and waiting and walking . everything that everyone else in the world got to do now but she never would again. It just wasn't fair.  
  
He walked to the stone and sat down beside it, tracing his fingers over the lettering. Joyce Rayne. 1955-2003. Loving mother, devoted friend, everyone's angel. Spike snorted at this slightly, not because it was untrue but just because people likely thought they could judge what kind of person she was based on those six words. And they would never ever be able to know half of who she was in reality. How amazing and special she was.  
  
Before he could stop it a tear trickled down his cheek. He wiped it away, furious at himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. The longer he stared at her tombstone and plucked at the grass with his fingers, listened to the tree leaves rustle softly from the small breeze and think about what he had lost in a split second it all ripped out of him. With a small moan he buried his face in his hands and cried, letting the sobs wrack his body. He broke down for the second time since she had left him, wishing he could rip his heart out and lay down next to her.  
  
In his emotional state Spike failed to notice a slight blonde figure watching him from the trees, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin. She gazed at him, shaking and nearly writhing on the ground with pain and wondered what she could do, how she could do it, to stop him from hurting. She felt a strange twinge in her chest, right where her heart organ was and searched to place it, realizing it was empathy for him.  
  
**What an odd feeling,** she mused, rubbing her chest lightly. She dropped her hand and continued to watch him, never moving or saying a word. For over an hour she watched him cry and wondered what it felt like to feel such emotion. 


	3. Hard as I Can

**Part 2: Hard as I Can**   
  
A/N- Woo! Part 2 is up! Thanks to Magz and her beta-hat and for the help on the title. Look for more 'Acting on Impulse' next! A very big THANK YOU goes to everyone who has left me such POSITIVE reviews but keep 'em coming! REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!!! Remember to check my website- w w w . still- believe . org/ marishna for future, faster updates!   
  
REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!!! 

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he sat. It was starting to get dark and he was exhausted from crying for so long.   
  
He took a deep breath and laid his hand on the top of her tombstone. "I miss you, mom. M'not sure I know how to do this without you…but I'm going to try. I know you'd want me to. But it's going to be hard. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't want to disappoint you," he whispered to her.   
  
A cool breeze whipped up around him and rustled his unkempt curls. He inhaled shakily, feeling stupid but daring to believe that just maybe she had heard him.   
  
At the same time the girl watching him had felt the breeze as well and she smiled, wishing she could feel what he was right now. He struck her as being a closet believer. Someone who scoffed at the thought of others watching over him or talking to those that are no longer around…but when he was all alone in his room, in the depths of his soul, he was searching for that sign that someone out there heard him, supported him and was there for him when he felt all alone. She had been that someone; she wondered who it was now, if there was anyone.   
  
_I wonder if there's anyone watching over ME right now?_ She thought to herself. She shrugged and continued to watch as Spike wiped at his eyes a last time and stood up shakily. The human body had never impressed her much when she had watched the world below, but there was something about him that made her want to feel for herself. To be able to physically reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real. She didn't know if it was the way that he carried himself or the way he didn't even try to look like he did- he just _was_- but whatever it was it drew her to him. She also wondered if she wasn't biased toward him because she had been watching over him for so long and had seen him grow into the man that he was today. He hadn't been seen for the past week, but she knew he was still there, waiting for when it was safe for him to emerge again.   
  
He stood at her grave for a few minutes longer, fixing the flowers that had been left on her tombstone, picking off dead petals and rearranging them so they still looked good. He made a mental note to bring flowers to her every week or so.   
  
With a heavy heart that was actually considerably lighter than when he had showed up here he turned to leave. He put on a stony face, so as not to belie his emotions but on the inside he was screaming to go back and lay down on her grave, to cry until someone brought her back for him. He knew it would never happen but he felt he needed to at least try.   
  
He walked. He weaved his way through the other tombstones, only noticing them enough to be able to move around them. He was so caught up in his own inner turmoil that he failed to notice the petite blonde who had stood and walked out from beneath her tree to follow him.   
  
He walked to the gates of the cemetery and paused. He had the oddest feeling that someone was watching him. He turned quickly but there was no one there. Had he been expecting a ghostly visit from his mother to come ease his pain? He shook his head and turned back around slowly. He looked up as he turned and jumped. There was an angel standing in front of him.   
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the angel offered her hand to him to shake. He stared at it dumbly, his eyes moving from it to her face. She was gorgeous. She had on a white tank top and simple white cotton drawstring pants. Her long, light blonde hair shone in the late afternoon sun.   
  
"Hi? Uh, I didn't stun you, did I?" she asked, waving the hand she'd held out in front of his face. Spike blinked and focused on her again.   
  
"What?" Spike gave his head a shake and tried again. "M'sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."   
  
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pop up without warning. I saw you walking and I wondered if you could help me?" She watched him carefully, noting how haggard he looked up close, and the red eyes and nose from crying. Here he was in corporeal form, mere inches away from her finally. Her new heart sped up in excitement.   
  
"You need my help?" Spike asked, looking around to make sure there was no one following her.   
  
"I'm lost. I've just moved to Sunnydale. I went out for a walk and got myself all turned around. I know it isn't a big town, but I'm slightly directionally impaired," the angel explained apologetically.   
  
"Oh, sure. That's no problem. Do you know where you're supposed to be?" Spike asked, curious at the town's new addition. She looked young, probably a university student. He didn't see a ring on her finger so he assumed she was single. _ Not the right time to be scamming for a date, you wanker_ he thought to himself.   
  
"Uh, Revello, I think. 1626," she told him, biting her lip as she thought.   
  
"I thought I saw moving vans there earlier. I'm actually your neighbor," Spike told her. "I was just on my way home so I can walk you there. If you'd like."   
  
She smiled. "I'd appreciate that. That works out nicely then, doesn't it? I'm finding my way home and meeting my neighbor all in one. Like killing a couple birds with a rock," she told him. He gave her a funny smile.   
  
"Right. Yeah, so I'm Spike, by the way," He offered his hand to her this time, which she accepted.   
  
"I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers," she replied in a slightly hushed voice. She watched their hands joined together in awe before she pulled hers away, abiding by the appropriate code of conduct that she inherently knew.   
  
_My first human contact! My first handshake and the first time I've touched him. He feels wonderful,_ her mind thought excitedly.   
  
"It's nice to meet you, Buffy," Spike gave her a small smile. He started walking in the direction back to their houses, leaving her to follow him. She furrowed her brow at his disinterest and trailed after him.   
  
"So, what do you do, Spike?" Buffy asked, catching up with him. He turned his head to look at her and shrugged.   
  
"Suppose I'll be headed back to school in a couple weeks. Supposed to graduate this year," he told her, squinting into the sun facing them as they walked.   
  
"Oh, that's exciting. What are you taking?" Buffy asked, trying to get his enthusiasm up.   
  
"'M a history major," was his short reply.   
  
"That's very interesting. What period do you study?" She was oblivious to his growing annoyance with her questions and kept chattering at him.   
  
"English history. Middle Ages, Anglo-Saxons and all that. War of the Roses, you know," he waved his hand dismissively. Buffy nodded, confused, and smiled again.   
  
"Graduating, huh? You must be looking forward to that. What do you plan on doing after?"   
  
"Not sure yet. Haven't given it much thought of late,"   
  
"You don't know what you might want to-" Spike cut her off, hoping to get the focus off him. He was tired and grumpy as well as uneasy with the questioning. After spending a week in a self-induced, isolated, drunken stupor it was hard for him to be around people. That was all beside the fact that he wasn't functioning to full capacity anyway, especially on an emotional level.   
  
"What are you doing here, pet?" He asked her instead. She gave him a dazzling smile that normally would have turned his head in a second but he couldn't bring himself to try to sweep her off her feet.   
  
"I moved here to go to school." All these words came to her in a flash, a product of being made human by the PtB. They sent her here with memories, ideas and common knowledge that would be enough to get her by while she was functioning in a human life. She couldn't wait to go home and try out the blender she had somewhere in her kitchen. She had the memory of one, but had never physically used one yet. It looked like fun.   
  
"Oh, so you're going to Sunnydale U, too? What are YOU taking?" Spike turned her questions back on herself.   
  
"I'm studying psychology. I find human nature very intriguing," she told him. He just nodded. They walked in silence for a few minutes, neither knowing what to say for different reasons.   
  
"So, this is Maple. Right off the main drag. We go to the very end and it's Revello." Spike spoke first, gesturing to the end of the street they were on.   
  
"That's close to everything at least. So, um… how long have you lived here?" Buffy asked hesitantly.   
  
"Since I was eight. Was in England before." Spike told her, answering what he figured to be her next question as well.   
  
"That must have been fun! Why did you leave?" She asked. She figured if she pressed him for details, to work through what was bothering him right away she could have him back to his old self in no time.   
  
"That's a little personal, actually." Spike told her hesitantly.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm prying. I don't mean to, I just get nervous around new people and you're new- no I'M new, but you're new to me and I want to make a good impression here and-"   
  
Spike cut her off again. "Whoa- it's ok. Really. Just relax a little, eh?" He shook his head and wondered what kind of nut he ran across tonight. He immediately felt bad thinking about her that way. She was perfectly nice and trying to make friends in a new place. She wasn't bad looking either, not that right now was a good time for him to be thinking about that. He just wanted to show her way home, go to his own house and go to bed. He had had enough fresh air and he was exhausted from crying.   
  
"Sorry." Buffy muttered. This was going horribly. She was supposed to help with his pain, not cause him more. All she was doing was alienating him. She had to get used to this mortal existence and how to act around others. Fast.   
  
They turned onto Revello and walked in silence to their houses, a short way down the street. The moving van was gone, but Spike could clearly see boxes everywhere in the house through the front windows. She would likely be unpacking for a while.   
  
"This is you, pet, right?" he asked her. He turned to her, and watched her stare at the house, almost in awe. Maybe her last place hadn't been as big? "Pet?"   
  
"Sorry," Buffy repeated, turning to Spike. "Thanks for walking me here. Again, I really appreciate it."   
  
"No problem."   
  
"So uh... I'll see you around?" she asked hopefully.   
  
"Maybe. Things are a little… hectic right now for me." He told her.   
  
"Oh, sure. I was just going to ask if you could show me around sometime, maybe on campus. But I'm sure I can find someone else," she gave him a small smile and turned to continue down her front walk. She turned back, "It was nice to meet you, Spike."   
  
He watched her walk away from him and disappear into her house, as an empty hollow space formed in his gut. He was lonely.   
  
He turned to go to his own house but glanced back at her windows once more where he could see her moving around the boxes. "It was nice to meet you too," he said to himself.   
  
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked to his house, slamming the door as usual when he went in. His father emerged from the living room and greeted him at the door with a huge smile on his face.   
  
"Happened to see you out there with a pretty young lady, Will."   
  
"Yeah, what of it?" He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on the stand by the door.   
  
"Just wondering if she's a friend of yours, is all," Ethan told him. "It's nice to see you get out."   
  
"She's the new neighbor. Don't know anything else about her than that. Can I go now?"   
  
Ethan sighed but nodded and watched as his son climbed the stairs to his room. He had hoped that this girl was his girlfriend or a very good friend that he could rely on. Ethan knew that he hadn't been a good parent and that at this point it was going to be next to impossible to mend his ties with Spike but he was going to try. And in the event that it didn't work he prayed that there was a support system for Spike to help him through this. It was going to get worse before it got better, he knew.   
  
"Well, if I'm going to be here I might as well make myself useful," he mumbled to himself and went to the kitchen to see if there was anything he could send to the new neighbors as a welcome.   
*****   
Spike stomach growled insistently when he smelled Ethan's cooking wafting from the kitchen. He had been sprawled on his bed, trying to concentrate on a book but mainly wondering if he should head out to Willie's and have a couple rounds with the regulars there. He didn't want to but he didn't know what else to do with his time, trapped in his thoughts and memories.   
  
The smell finally got to be too much for him and he thumped down the stairs to find out what Ethan had made for dinner. When he got to the kitchen his father was carrying the covered casserole dish and a bag of rolls out of the room.   
  
"What's for dinner?" Spike asked, trying to get a look in the dish.   
  
"Don't know yet," Ethan answered him, passing through the dining room to the front door. "This is for the neighbors. I'm sure they don't have time to cook and would appreciate a hot meal."   
  
"What? No, I'm sure they're fine. You should just stay out of it." Spike told him, following him to the door. He didn't like the thought of Ethan making friends with the neighbors. That was something his mother did. SHE made them hot meals and desserts and became friends with them. Not Ethan.   
  
"It's one meal, Will. I'm sure that young lady would like it," He opened the front door carefully and paused over the threshold. "You could come over and meet everyone, show them how nice the people are in this town."   
  
"No thanks. I've already been hospitable enough for one day. They've probably called for carryout or something." Spike called after him as Ethan left the house.   
  
"They can freeze it." He threw over his shoulder. Spike closed the door and leaned his forehead against the wood. He knew what his father was trying to do and he disliked him even more for it. If he had wanted to get to know Buffy more he would have. He didn't know why Ethan had to go poking his nose into his business, bothering the nice people next door.   
  
He walked to the living room and watched out the windows as Ethan walked next door and down the pathway to the front door. He rang the bell and stepped back, waiting for someone to come. A minute later Spike watched Ethan stand up straight and talk to whoever had opened the door. Then Buffy stepped out with a huge smile on her face. She spoke with Ethan for a few moments before gesturing to the house and together they walked inside.   
  
Spike sat on the couch and twirled his fingers. He fiddled with his thumb ring, tugged at his shirt and ran his hands through his hair. His mind wandered to Ethan over there with Buffy, the girl who reminded him of an angel. He wasn't worried for her safety but she did seem easy to impress, eager to please, perhaps a little naïve. Ethan was the type of person to take advantage of that. She was old enough for him to go after but young enough that he'd feel like a big man for it.   
  
Spike shook his head, almost ashamed for thinking of his father that way. _ Didn't he run off with a pretty little blonde chit when he abandoned you and you mum?_ His mind taunted him. _He stabbed you in the back once, why not do it again? Take the girl that he thinks you have an interest in…_   
  
"Bloody buggering hell." Spike muttered to himself as he stood. He left the house and strode to the house next door, grumbling the whole way.   
*****   
"'Slices, dices and purees. Good for parties, brunches, or your own healthy drinks.'" Buffy read off the instruction booklet that came with her blender. She gave a small squeal when she pulled it out of the box and set it on the counter, anxious to try it out. She reached in the big box with other appliances again and pulled out a toaster and a teakettle.   
  
Her first meeting with Spike hadn't gone as well as she had hoped it would. She understood that he was in pain, but she was reaching out to him. She was trying to be his friend so that he wouldn't have to feel alone. She knew that from what she felt inside and couldn't understand why he wasn't responding as well. She would just have to try again and be a little more low-key next time. She supposed that she came on too strong.   
  
_What is he doesn't like me? What if this is all hopeless and he doesn't even want to be my friend? What if I was sent here in the wrong form? Perhaps something more attractive? Less? A different hair color?_ Buffy thought frantically to herself, experiencing being self-conscious for the first time. If this was what every person went through in these situations then it was no wonder the PtB felt so much frustration and sadness from the people below. Always second-guessing ones self was hard on the self-esteem.   
  
She pondered this mini-revelation that she'd discovered for a few minutes until the doorbell rang and made her jump. She knew what it was but since she'd never actually heard a doorbell it had scared the wits out of her. She waded her way through the boxes to the front door and threw it open, wondering who would be on her doorstep, as Spike was the only one who knew she was here, and he hadn't been all too eager to come see her.   
  
"Uh- hi." She said to the strange man on her doorstep who was holding a dish and rolls, wearing what looked like mittens on his hands.   
  
"Hello, luv. My name is Ethan Rayne. I'm from next door and thought you might enjoy a hot meal, seeing as how this is your first night here. I believe you met my son, William, today," At her confused look he corrected himself. "I think you know him as Spike?"   
  
Buffy stepped out onto the porch and smiled. "Yes, I did meet him today. I'm Buffy Summers. He was nice enough to walk me home when I was lost. Sunnydale may not be very big, but it certainly is confusing."   
  
"Yes, I think it's all the cemeteries and churches that makes it look the same everywhere. You'll get the hang of it though," Ethan smiled back at her. "Don't want to intrude on your unpacking but this dish is getting a might bit hot, luv."   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Please, come in," She gestured to the open door, ushering him in. "The kitchen is to your right."   
  
"Thanks. I just made a quick chicken dish, hopefully enough for your whole family."   
  
"Oh, it's just me. My family bought the house for me to go to school."   
  
"So you'll be attending Sunnydale U just like my son? Maybe you two could be study buddies or something or the sort." Ethan suggested, raising his eyebrow at the extravagant digs for a university student.   
  
"Oh, I don't want to bother him. I don't think he was very happy today, or maybe I just made a bad impression." Buffy told him   
  
"I'm sure you made a fine impression on him, he's just been going through a difficult time of late. His mother passed on in the past couple weeks," Buffy made a shocked expression, as if she hadn't known as Ethan continued. "He's taken it very hard. Today was his first day out of the house in a week. Maybe because he met you he'll come out of his shell a little."   
  
"I don't know about that. If I can help in any way, I'd be more than happy." Buffy told Ethan as the doorbell rang again, this time not scaring her quite as much. She excused herself and went to answer the door. Who could this be?   
  
"Hi. Is my Da here?" Spike asked as soon as she opened the door.   
  
"Um, hi. Yes he is. Would you like to come in?" Buffy replied, startled at his abrupt arrival and questioning.   
  
"Thanks," Spike said as he stepped through the door. "Sorry for intruding this way."   
  
"You're not. I'm enjoying the company actually." Buffy told him leading him to the kitchen.   
  
"Da, was wonderin' when you might come home?" Spike asked Ethan pointedly.   
  
"I was just having a nice conversation with Buffy. Did you know she's in this big house all by herself? Must be very lonely." He said back at his son just as pointedly.   
  
"You're here alone? Where's your family?" Spike asked, turning to her.   
  
"Back home." Buffy replied, confused at the obvious tension between the two men.   
  
"Where's home that they didn't come here with you?" Spike pressed.   
  
"Um- north. Way up north," Buffy told him, then turned the conversation elsewhere. "I'm sorry if I kept you too long, Mr. Rayne."   
  
"Nonsense. Just doing the neighborly thing. Spike here is too. He could show you around campus, you know." Ethan offered.   
  
"Oh, no. That's fine, really. I can find someone else, I know Spike is busy and I don't want to be an imposition." She covered hastily. This was not going the way she had expected it to. She had wanted to work up to being Spike's friend gradually, gaining his trust. But his father was very headstrong and eager to see Spike move on with his life.   
  
"I could show you around then," Ethan offered. "It's been awhile since I've lived in the town but things haven't changed that much. In fact I could probably take you out tomorrow and show-"   
  
Spike cut his Ethan off, a slow rage starting to burn in his veins. "Actually, I'm not as busy as I thought I was earlier, I'd be more than happy to show you around Buffy." He threw a dangerous look at Ethan who took that as his signal to go home.   
  
"Right then. Buffy, it was very nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll see you around, luv," Ethan started to back out of the kitchen. "Feel free to drop in next door if you need anything."   
  
"Thank you," Buffy called as he left before she could see him to the door. She was so very confused by this display between the two men. She didn't know much about Spike's father, as she hadn't started watching over him until he was eight or nine, living in the house next door with Joyce. She turned to Spike who was standing with his eyes closed. "Um, you don't have to show me around."   
  
"No, it's fine. I'm sorry for being such a prick. Like I said- things are hectic right now for me." All of a sudden he was so tired and all he wanted to do was lay down anywhere, even on her floor, and sleep for days.   
  
"Do- do you maybe want to talk about it?" Buffy asked hesitantly, feeling his resolve weaken. He looked at her, tears in his eyes. "I'm a good listener."   
  
Buffy reached her hand out to lie on his arm but he jerked away, blinking the tears away. "No, that's fine. Thanks. I- I have to go. I'll see you around, ok? You can- I'll… I'll just see you around."   
  
Spike left without giving Buffy time to show him to the door as well, leaving her confused, alone and feeling the agony left behind.   
  
"Oh Spike," Buffy whispered to herself. "How can I help you when you trap yourself in so much pain?" 


	4. Just Trying to Make His Way Home

**Part 3: Just Trying to Make His Way Home**   
  
A/N: So here it is. Finally. I'm not sure how well I like this chapter, it kind of wrote itself into awkward places, I thought. But nevertheless it's done, right? AOI 15 is done, betaed and waiting to go up as well but I am going to give that a few days, maybe a week just so I can get another chap of MLIT cranked out but again, if it takes too long than I will put it up before MLIT 4 is done, no worries! Great thanks to Magz, as always, for putting on her pretty beta hat!   
  
REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! ENJOY, ENJOY, ENJOY! And remember my site w w w. still - believe . org / marishna for faster and future updates! 

* * *

Spike stumbled down the street, his vision swimming. It was after three. The bar had long since kicked him out and closed but it had taken him a good hour to get off the ground where he had fallen and to figure out where he was going. He still didn't know, as he wandered aimlessly trying to find a place that he knew.   
  
He tripped over a broken piece of sidewalk and lay sprawled out sideways on someone's lawn. He giggled to himself and looked around, everything dark and upside down. He noticed a familiar house a few dwellings down and decided to go there, instead of trying to make his way home and likely killing himself.   
  
He managed to get up without tipping over again and the world gave a lurch. He steadied himself some before he started staggering down the road toward the house that he knew. All the houses were dark at this late hour. _ I'm the only stupid git out right now,_ he thought, confused.   
  
He got to the house in one piece and managed to climb the stairs without falling or tripping. He rang the doorbell a couple times before sliding down the wall and sitting on the porch, resting his head on the wall. A few minutes later, he heard some tired grumbling and shuffling inside the house. The porch light came on, causing sensory overload on Spike's addled brain and the door opened.   
  
He squinted up at the groggy-looking face staring back down at him from behind the partially opened screen door. "'Lo."   
  
"Spike?" Xander Harris looked down at his friend and wondered what he was doing sitting outside his house at three in the morning. As Spike struggled to his feet, he swayed toward Xander who smelled the reason why he was here. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."   
  
Xander led Spike inside and shook his head at his girlfriend, Anya Jenkins, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her jewelry case in one hand and baseball bat in the other. She had put her robe on inside out and her blonde curls were awry, giving her a demented housewife look. "It's ok, Ahn, you can put the jewels away."   
  
"How was I supposed to know this wasn't going to be some deranged robber looking to take my diamond broach and pearl earrings? We really should get some sort of security device." Anya wrinkled her nose as Spike swayed by her. "Or we could set him up on the porch and anyone downwind of him will run away in fright. Spike? What have you been doing?"   
  
"I went out for a couple drinks. You know- meet up with th' other guys?" Spike hiccupped at her, smiling dumbly. Xander clapped a hand on his back and led him through the living room to the kitchen where he made him sit down at the table as he made some coffee.   
  
"Spike, man, it's three in the morning. You should be at home, in bed… like we were," Xander told him, almost mournfully.   
  
"I can go," Spike told him, moving to get up but he over balanced as he tried to stand and started to pitch head first to the floor. Xander caught him and sat him back in the chair.   
  
"That's fine. You're safer here. Besides, it's nice to know you're ok. Been awhile since I've seen you." Xander sat at the table with him, the coffee forgotten.   
  
"Yeah, it has, hasn't it? A couple weeks, d'wager," Spike thought hard, and hiccupped again. "Yeah, I saw y-you the day before- before… um- the day 'fore she died."   
  
"Yeah, Spike I'm sorry about that. I was at the funeral but I didn't get to speak to you," Xander told him down, looking at his hands. Spike stared at him, his eyes a bit unfocused, and sighed.   
  
"Everyone's sorry. Say whatever they need to t'get it off their chest and they feel better – it's okay. That's how it's been since…. Since. But it's not ok, Xander. It's just not," Spike told him, tiredly. "What am I doing here?"   
  
"You're drunk and you rang my doorbell, Spike," Xander reminded him gently. Spike shook his head.   
  
"No, what am I doing here- in this town, at my house, in my life? Do I deserve it? Is this right at all? I just seem to be pissing my life away. S'not fair," Spike told him.   
  
"You're not pissing your life away, Spike. Quite the opposite. And you're here because it's what's supposed to be. I can't tell you anything else. I don't know the meaning of life and I can't tell you who lives and who dies and why. You deserve life, Spike," Xander responded, a bit worried about his condition but mentally and physically. The few times he'd called his friend to see how he was his father told him that he was out or sleeping and from the looks of him right now he saw what he'd been doing while he was out.   
  
"Xander, I'm so tired. I sleep and I see her," he admitted in a whisper. "I see her and feel her and smell her and it's so real. I just want her to hold me and tell me everything's gonna be okay."   
  
"I'm sorry Spike. I don't know what else to tell you. Joyce was like a mom to me too. I know I'm not going through any of what you are, but I feel some of your pain. But I'm not sure how to make it go away." Xander felt helpless to stop the hurt Spike was feeling. He was happy that he had come to see him, despite the late hour, but at the same time, he didn't know what to do or say which made him uncomfortable.   
  
"Got any scotch?" Spike asked, struggling to stand up again. Xander got up to help him to the living room.   
  
"I think you're cut off for the night. How much did you drink tonight already?"   
  
"I don't know. D'have to check my tab," Spike leaned against Xander heavily before the other man deposited him on the couch.   
  
"You have a tab run up somewhere? You've been going to Willie's haven't you?" Xander groaned. That was the bar that they frequented the most, and therefore the one that would lend credit to Spike for liquor on which he shouldn't have been wasting his money.   
  
"All the time," Spike smiled, proudly. "Willie's a really nice guy. Letting me drink there all the time. You like Willie?"   
  
"Yeah, he's a stand up guy." Xander muttered as he pulled Spike's boots off. This wasn't the first time he'd had to do this for his friend, and it wouldn't be the last but this was the most worried that he'd ever been for Spike. He'd never been quite this drunk- or upset. "You're going to stay here for the night and I'll drive you home in the morning, ok? Is your car at Willie's?"   
  
Spike slumped back on the couch, pulling the throw from the back over him as his eyes started to drift closed immediately. "Nah, I walked from B-betty's… no… Bunny's….um.. someone's house."   
  
"You didn't meet a random girl tonight did you?" Xander groaned again.   
  
"No, someone I didn't like my da hitting on. She was … she's an angel. She was all… pretty and…. shiny," Spike passed out fully then, leaving Xander to watch over his friend and wish he could take his pain away.   
  


* * *

Spike opened one eye quickly before shutting it and pulling the throw over his head. The sun was pouring into the living room, falling right on him and making his head pound.   
  
He stumbled from the couch and stood for a moment, gaining his bearings and forcing the nausea down so he wouldn't have to make a dash to the bathroom. Once he had himself under control he staggered to the kitchen where Anya was making coffee and Xander was cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. Spike's stomach turned as he looked at the food so he made a beeline for the coffee and gratefully accepted the cup that Anya handed him.   
  
"Thanks, luv." He sat down at the table and held his head in his hands. "I'm really sorry for showing up here like that last night. I don't remember much of it."   
  
"That's ok, Spike. The fear of being robbed was a nice practice run for the occasion that I might have to get my valuables out of the house in the real-life scenario. So thanks for that!" Anya told him brightly, sitting down at the table. Xander soon followed with food, which made Spike groan and cover his face.   
  
"Spike, I don't want to sound all preachy or anything but I'm worried about you," Xander started. Spike sighed and moved his hands from his face. "I don't know what you're going through but I want to help, you know? I saw you last night and it wasn't pretty."   
  
"I'm- I'm trying. Okay?" Spike told him defensively. "I just need to figure some stuff out."   
  
"You won't find it at the bottom of a bottle," Xander told him quietly. Spike pushed back from the table and stood up, taking his coffee with him.   
  
"I'll be in the living room."   
  
Xander shook his head after he left and turned to Anya. "I don't know what to do. I'm watching my best friend waste away."   
  
"You can't force him to live his life. He has to figure that out for himself. We humans are a funny breed that way," Anya told him, before she leaned over and kissed him.   
  


* * *

An hour later Xander was driving Spike back to his house without another word spoken about his drinking. They made small talk, avoiding any topic that would bring up anything about his mother for Spike.   
  
Xander was relieved when he got Spike to agree to a night out with him and Anya and their other close friend Willow. Spike admitted that he needed to get out and see his friends again, join the real world. While Xander was still worried about Spike and his drinking, he didn't push the matter further.   
  
Spike stumbled out of the car when they arrived at 1630 Revello, still under the effects of the alcohol somewhat. Xander got out as well, making sure he didn't need and help and watching as Spike cursed at himself and walked around the car.   
  
"Thanks again, man. I'm really sorry for showing up like that last night," Spike told him again, squinting from the bright sun.   
  
"If you can't crash with me, who can you go to?" Xander told him, brushing it off.   
  
"I'll try not to come callin' at… at…" Spike trailed off, watching something behind Xander. He turned to see what Spike was watching and his gaze fell on a petite blonde walking out of her house and down her driveway. He swung back to Spike and noticed he was still watching her intently.   
  
"So that's her?" Xander asked. Spike glanced at Xander.   
  
"What?" He asked, his eyes darting back to Buffy.   
  
"Last night- you were babbling on about some angel dressed in white. Is that her?"   
  
"Yeah," Spike told him, unable to look away. She drew him to her without him knowing why or how.   
  
Buffy walked to the end of her drive to the mailbox and looked up to see the two men staring at her. She glanced around to see what they were looking at before realizing they were watching her. She raised a hand to wave at Spike and gave him a small smile before walking back up her driveway and disappearing into her house.   
  
Spike raised his hand jerkily after she'd turned away and gave a belated wave. Xander grinned and smacked him lightly on the back. Spike snapped out of his stupor and turned to glare at him.   
  
"She's new," Xander commented, raising his eyebrows and following Spike who shrugged and started for the house. They sat down on the front steps together as Spike pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it up.   
  
"Who is she?" Xander pressed. Spike sighed as he exhaled through his nose.   
  
"Just moved in from… the north, she said. Named Buffy, got lost near the cemetery yesterday. So I walked her home, seeing as how we're neighbors. I've known the chit for less than a day." Spike shook his head.   
  
"And you're entranced by her already?" Xander went on. Spike glared at him.   
  
"I'm bloody well not! I don't even know her," Xander laughed.   
  
"Right. That's why she was in your drunken ramblings last night and almost made you fall over from mere exposure today?" Spike grumbled and sucked hard on his cigarette. Xander dropped his joking tone and dared to enter Spike's sphere of unspeakable things for the moment. "It's alright to like her, to want to get to know you. You know that, right? I know you're still … having trouble with things but part of dealing with everything is moving on. I don't want to overstep here, but it's inevitable that you have to start living again."   
  
Spike nodded and ducked his head. "I'm screwing up here, Xander. I don't know any other way to get through it. I feel- I feel like I'm leaving her behind, betraying her."   
  
"I think that's normal, you know? You were really close to your mom. And now she's not here to be with you when you go through stuff and it's going to be weird. But we do it anyway. I'm not saying jump into everything feet first and join in with whatever you can to replace her, but I'm worried about you. Willie's is not going to be there for you when you hit rock bottom, Spike." Xander told him trying to be as nice and honest at the same time. Spike nodded again and stubbed his cigarette out.   
  
"Everything in my head is either numb or screaming. I like numb. I don't have to feel the pain or hear the screaming. And when it screams I make it numb. I know it's not healthy but it's all I know right now," Spike explained feeling guilty.   
  
"Not to sound crass here or make you feel worse, but is this how Joyce would want you to remember him? By drowning everything about her bad and good in booze? It's something to think over," Xander told him. Spike hung his head further and closed his eyes; one more thing added to his 'work-through' pile.   
  
"I get it, I do. I just need some time. I think anyway," Spike told him, standing up. He was ready to go to bed and knew that Xander likely had a busy day planned with Anya. "Again, sorry for crashing on you last night. You're a pal."   
  
Xander stood too and hesitated but then pulled Spike in for a hug. "Anytime, man. I'm here for you. Willow too. You should give her a call, she's worried about you." Spike nodded. "And then we'll get together and do the group thing. Bring someone, don't bring someone- it's up to you."   
  
Spike rolled his eyes and turned to go in the house. Xander's voice made him turn back. "This could be Anya's superstitious crap rubbing off on me but maybe there is something about her. Seems kinda convenient that she moved in right now, of all times. She's… different." With that, he walked back to his car and drove away, Spike watching the whole time. He stood on his porch, thinking and regretting his actions the night before. He glanced over at Buffy's house, wondering if there was any truth to what Xander said. He shook his head and walked inside.   
  
HR> Buffy sat in her living room and stared. She had found that if she looked at the same spot on the wall for as long as possible it looked like other things in the room were moving. In other words, she was bored.   
  
She had been wracking her brain on things that she could talk to Spike about, to go visit his house over. So far, she'd come up with nothing plausible enough to generate a healing conversation with him. She had no idea what she was going to say to him today, when she approached him. In her head, everything seemed too dumb or insipid to ask him about. This was another bit of the human insecurity coming through in her, she noticed.   
  
She stood and paced, watching nightfall. She decided she would figure out how the television worked and what was so captivating by it tonight. She had all the amenities of other humans but had yet to understand why they were so enamored of their possessions. Living as a human was boring. She was already tired of her existence as a mortal and she hadn't gotten anywhere with her mission.   
  
As she walked around the house, bored, the doorbell rang. Surprised, she walked to the door and opened it. Even more surprising was that Spike was on the other side. Unlike the previous night, however, he looked softer tonight, not as angry or hurried.   
  
Spike had found herself on Buffy's doorstep and ringing her bell without realizing what he was doing. He had been thinking back on what Xander had said earlier in the day ever since he left- about how his mom would be upset he was ruling his life with the bottle and about how it was weird that Buffy had shown up right around the time that he had lost someone and everything had changed so drastically. He needed to know more about her, about her life and why she was here to settle his curiosity.   
  
"Um, hi, Buffy," Spike started quietly. "I came over to apologize for my behavior last night and to set up a time for when you would like me to show you around. I'm not usually so rude."   
  
Buffy nodded and smiled at him, happy that he'd taken the first step between them. She opened the door wider and he stepped inside nervously. Spike looked around quickly, taking in how much she'd completed since he'd been here the previous night, and wished he knew what to say. Beside him, Buffy thought much the same, her mind racing to think of something to ask or tell him.   
  
"So, um… nice place," Spike told her lamely. Buffy nodded and rocked on her heels. Finally, she gave a frustrated sigh and turned to him.   
  
"Look, I'm new and I need someone to show me around. Your dad told me last night that you're going through some hard times because your mother passed away and I'm very sorry for that. It seems like you were pushed into helping me and I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to," She blurted out and kicked herself mentally for possibly throwing away the only way she might be able to get to know him.   
  
Spike shook his head. "I was an ass last night is all. I'm… having a rough go of it right now and get in bad moods. It's nothing against you, really. And I do want to show you around. I have this inexplicable urge to get to know you better." Buffy smiled at him, delighted.   
  
_Yes!_ She thought to herself. _ The faster I can get close to him the faster I can get out of this boring life and back home. I thought this was going to be more fun than this._   
  
"That's very nice of you. I'm glad someone can help me. I'm scared to go anywhere for fear of getting lost!" Buffy laughed and Spike smiled slightly. He watched her as she shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. She was gracefully uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what it was about her but it didn't seem like she was herself with him. They were strangers, granted, but he had the feeling he could pick the surface and find someone incredibly beautiful and confident.   
  
Buffy cringed internally, wondering what he was looking at. She felt awkward and out of place under such scrutiny. As Spike continued to watch her, she tugged at her shirt, feeling inadequate with her appearance and wondered what he was looking at. _ This is so weird!_ her mind screamed, unable to tell her what to do. _ What's he looking at?_   
  
Spike shuffled his feet and clicked his teeth, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on her so as not to freak her out but he wasn't succeeding. Now that he was able to take her in, he could see that she was quite beautiful. She was a far cry from the girls that he usually dated but there was still something about her that he wanted to find in her that he couldn't put his finger on.   
  
Spike cleared his throat and studied his fingers while Buffy picked at her clothes, looking for invisible lint. Neither attempted to break the awkward silence that had taken over the room. 

* * *

Is Spike coming back to the real world? Find out in Part 4.   
  
Reviewing makes chapters come faster! Well, not really, but it pushes me to get off my ass to work harder if you like my stuff! ** Review me! **


	5. Hold onto Yourself for this is Going to ...

**Part 4: Hold onto Yourself for this is Going to Hurt Like Hell **   
  
A/N: Woot! I didn't realize it had been so long since I've updated this. Sorry for keeping people waiting. I'll try to have the next part out a little faster. And AOI will be up next, probably by next week. Again- Magz: Super Beta rocks my socks. *smooches*   
  
REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!! 

* * *

"So, this is the science building. Where, uh… science classes are held," Spike gestured to the large brick building awkwardly, not sure what else to say. Buffy gave him a small smile and pretended to be interested in it.   
  
"Is this where the psychology classes are held?" she asked.   
  
"Uh - no. Sorry. That would be in the psychology building, which is across the quad. I guess you would want to see that one, wouldn't you? Bein' a psych major and all." Spike sighed and started to lead the way across the campus.   
  
Buffy followed and searched her brain desperately for something to say or ask or do. Anything to get rid of this awkwardness between them. It'd been a few days since he'd shown up at her house, asking her if she'd like him to show her around campus. She'd been looking forward to the tour and the possibility of more one-on-one contact with him, but things weren't going like she'd hoped.   
  
"So, you're a senior?" Buffy asked, catching up to him.   
  
"Yeah. We already went over this once," Spike told her, moving on.   
  
Buffy blinked and faltered in her step for a moment. She bit her lip and lengthened her stride to keep up with him. He continued on, oblivious to her all out jog to be able to walk with him.   
  
Finally halfway across the courtyard, she came to a dead stop to catch her breath. She hadn't realized how exerting day-to-day human activity was. Spike was a few yards ahead of her before he realized she wasn't with him any longer and stopped to find where she went.   
  
"Are you coming?" He asked abruptly. Buffy looked at him as if he had three eyes and shook her head. She walked to a nearby bench and sat down, unexpected anger bubbling up inside her. Spike followed and perched next to her, staring at her.   
  
"Are you sick? Hurt? Need help?" He asked impatiently. She shook her head and avoided his eyes. "Then what's the hold up? You wanted to see the campus, didn't you?"   
  
"Yes, I did," she snapped back, shocked at her tone. She was so angry with him and didn't know where it had come from. She needed to get it out, the sooner the better. "I wanted to come to the university and see what I was up against, find out where things were. I came here today expecting that. I expected to get a tour from a half decent person who wasn't a complete… asshole!" The last word flew out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. She blushed furiously and looked away, unsure of what had come over her.   
  
Spike sat, stunned, for a moment that the petite blonde he had mistook for an angel had used such vulgar words at him. Then he hung his head and knew exactly what she was talking about. He had been an asshole. "Buffy - I'm so sorry. I've been a jerk today. I have nothing to say to justify it or explain it - not that I should. I'm just… you're right, I'm an asshole."   
  
Buffy tried to be forgiving and tolerant but she couldn't shake her anger. She frowned at him. "I told you the first time, that if you didn't want to do this you didn't have to. The university provides campus tours. I can set one of those up and leave you to wallow or brood or do whatever it is that you seem to be stuck in right now."   
  
"No," he put his hand on her arm to keep her from bolting. "I'm really sorry. Truly. I have no excuse, except that I'm a moron." He sighed and looked away, shaking his head. Buffy took pity on him.   
  
"I'm sorry, too. It's been difficult coming such a long way, not knowing anyone or how to get around. When I met you, I had hoped that we could be friends. But I think I pushed too hard. Or you just don't want to be friends. Which is fine. I can see that you have other things in your life that need to be dealt with," she told him in a wistful tone.   
  
She had so much to learn about being human. She had all these thoughts and feelings running through her at the oddest times. She couldn't figure out how she could go from happy to sad in a matter of moments. Or why she was so confused. Or why she couldn't just work herself up to getting him alone and talking to him. He was just another person, right? He had the same physical functions and operations as she did, with a few adjustments to take into account their different genders. Maybe that was it? Maybe the female gender was supposed to be this confused and unsure all the time. And the men were always rude jerks. She hadn't observed that specifically when she had watched from above; then again, seeing and experiencing were two separate things.   
  
_Maybe I should have taken a male form. Perhaps there is some sort of camaraderie between the male sex that men and women don't have?_ she thought to herself.   
  
"Look, Buffy, I'd really like to be your friend. I know this is no excuse for taking it out on others, but I'm going through a hard time right now. After my mum, and all. I - I'm trying but… it's just weird to be out in the real world again, after spending so long cooped up in my room, you know?" Spike asked. Buffy nodded and looked sympathetic, despite the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about. He reached over and took her hand. "I really am sorry. I'm a wanker. I'd really like to show you around the proper way."   
  
Buffy stared dumbly at their hands, his rougher one holding her soft one. And she couldn't think. She glanced at him, wide eyed and felt her heart start to beat faster. His fingers wrapped around hers were so WARM. He looked down from her gaze and unconsciously rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, sending shivers down her spine.   
  
_What in the world is wrong with me?_ she wondered frantically. _He's just touching me and I feel like I'm having some sort of episode. Is this normal? Is this right?_ Something clicked then and she thought back to her memories of a young Spike with his friends. His first kiss with a girl, behind the school after he'd arrived in America. The girl had been so excited, especially when he'd held her hand the next day – she had told all of her friends the moment she saw them. Buffy remembered being happy for him, and the girl and wishing for one split second that she were that girl.   
  
"So, what do you say?" Spike asked, pulling her from her thoughts. Buffy met his eyes and smiled genuinely at him.   
  
"Thanks, Spike," she told him. He smiled back; a true smile that he found didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would. Buffy made a move to stand, to pull her hand away but he held it fast. She cocked her head at him. "Something wrong?"   
  
He turned a thought over in his head a few times, remembering Xander's words about life starting again. Now was as good a time as any. "I was wondering, to make up for my being a complete git today, would you like to go out to dinner sometime? Well - tonight?"   
  
Buffy felt a thrill go through her, unsure if it was from progress in her mission to get Spike to open up to her or because he just asked her out on a date-type excursion. "Really? Dinner? That - that would be very nice. I'd really like to have dinner with you, Spike," Buffy told him. He nodded and gave her another small smile, amazed that he finally could.   
  


* * *

"Can I just say that you look very nice tonight, pet?" Spike asked as he opened the door to The Source, the small trendy restaurant that he had brought her to.   
  
"Thank you," She smiled at him as she passed. He caught her scent as it wafted past, a light fresh smell that reminded him of strawberries. He knew that he had surprised Ethan when he had come down the stairs in a pair of dress pants and a sharp blue shirt that brought out his eyes. He had even been cordial toward him, answering questions about where he was going and with whom. A rare moment in their strained relationship.   
  
They were seated immediately, at a small, cozy table near a window. Spike surprised Buffy by pulling her chair out for her, making her smile. He sat across from her and was suddenly struck with inexplicable nervousness. Truth be told, he'd never had problems with the ladies. He knew he looked good and how to play that to his advantage most of the time. He didn't get nervous around girls. He just didn't.   
  
And then there was Buffy.   
  
He took a deep breath and smiled at her across the table. She smiled back, her eyes bright from the soft candlelight. They stared at each other in silence, waiting for the other to start the conversation. Buffy smiled again.   
  
"This is a nice restaurant," she told him, looking around. Spike followed her gaze and nodded. Silence again.   
  
He shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh. "This is insane," Spike told her. Buffy frowned at him.   
  
"What is?"   
  
"This," Spike gestured between them. "We're two fairly intelligent adults who should be able to carry on a conversation without much effort, right?"   
  
"One would assume," Buffy replied.   
  
"Then this shouldn't be that hard. Let's start with, uh… you said you grew up in the north. Would that be exactly?"   
  
Buffy thought quickly. "Wisconsin!"   
  
Spike nodded. "Cheese country, hmm?"   
  
Buffy nodded as well and laughed. "That would be it. Have you ever been up that way?"   
  
"No. Been to New York once and that's been about it. Came right to California from England," Spike told her. The waiter finally came then and gave them menus.   
  
"Wow!" Buffy exclaimed. "Everything looks so good. What do you recommend?"   
  
"Well, to be honest, I've never been here. I've heard good things about the sole. The grilled chicken is supposed to be excellent." Buffy and Spike debated their options and finally decided on a few dishes with the promise that they would share. The waiter took their orders, leaving the couple in a good mood and chatting easily, exchanging laughs.   
  
Spike was just thinking how nice this was, sitting with a gorgeous girl and enjoying himself for the first time in weeks when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Jenny Calendar, a woman who worked with his mother at the gallery doing inventory and bookkeeping. His good mood faltered.   
  
"William," Jenny started. "I don't want to interrupt your meal but I saw you as I was leaving and wanted to come express my condolences to you and the rest of your family. I know how close you were to your mother and I feel awful about what happened. Joyce was such a wonderful woman. I wanted you to know that and how much we'll all miss her at the gallery."   
  
As if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on his head he gave her a tight smile and thanked her for her comments before she left. He turned back to the table and Buffy's sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about that," she told him. He shrugged.   
  
"What for? S'not like you knew she was coming or that my mother was going to die," Spike told her shortly as the waiter arrived with their water. "Hey there mate, how about you bring us a cask of your house wine?"   
  
"Very good, sir," he told him. Buffy bit her lip when she saw the look on Spike's face but kept quiet. Obviously, the woman's comment had upset him.   
  
"So you're from England. Do you ever want to go back?" She turned to another subject. Spike sighed quietly to himself but it wasn't missed by Buffy.   
  
"Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to pack up and leave, get away and start over, you know?" Buffy nodded as if she did. "But then I think about staying here and the life I already have for myself. Granted, it's not much right now, but I'm getting it back. Or I will."   
  
"I'm sure you will. Life has a tendency to get confusing just when you think everything is the way it's supposed to be. But that's when you learn to adapt and discover new things, right?"   
  
"I suppose," Spike murmured. She was true about that actually. If he hadn't been at the graveyard that day, he likely would never have met her. But then again, if his mother had never died he wouldn't have had to be at the graveyard. And he wouldn't be a bumbling mess now.   
  
He sighed again and thanked the higher powers as the waiter came with their wine. He poured Buffy a glass. He gulped down his first and then poured another for himself before attempting to launch into a half-decent conversation with her.   
  
Buffy watched him as he drank and felt her stomach sink in fear and worry.   
  


* * *

"That was a great meal, wasn't it Buffy?" Spike asked as they walked to the front desk to pay. He slung an arm about her waist, which she suspected as a way to keep from weaving. The first cask of wine had been drunk just after their food had arrived. The second after they finished eating. Spike had wanted to order a third but Buffy managed to talk him out of it, convincing him that she didn't want any and it would be a waste as she had nursed her one glass through the whole meal.   
  
"It was great Spike. Thank you for bringing me," Buffy told him, stopping him at the counter to pay. He whipped out his credit card with a flash grinning at her as the waiter rang them through.   
  
Buffy led them outside and breathed in the fresh air. She rubbed her arms lightly through her red sweater and sighed. Spike noticed this and wrapped his arm about her shoulders again, thinking she was cold. She gave him a small, strained smile. "Are you okay?" she asked.   
  
"Sure!" Spike grinned. He was feeling alright now. A little buzzed from the wine but better in general. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed for his car. Buffy felt instant dread and remembered all the people she had seen in her existence, killed because of drinking and driving. She caught up with him and pulled the keys from his grasp. Spike wheeled around. "Hey!"   
  
"Sorry, Spike, but I'm not letting you drive," she told him firmly, holding her ground. Spike frowned at her.   
  
"You're going to drive us home? In my baby?" He pouted. Buffy felt her heart beat a little harder at this but shook her head the same.   
  
"Yes. Guess I am driving us home," Then the reality hit. "Oh. _I'm_ driving us home."   
  
"Is that a problem?" Spike asked. Buffy shook her head.   
  
"No! It's fine. It's just a new car to me. It's okay."   
  
"Alright. But I have a request," Spike told her as they got into the car. "Since you're driving us home and won't even let me get us there, how about you head over the liquor store and I can buy us something."   
  
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Buffy asked. She had knowledge of how to drive a car, in her made up memories. But actually doing it?   
  
"I think it's a great idea," Spike told her, a slight edge to his words. Buffy nodded and set her mouth in a determined line before buckling her seatbelt, making sure Spike did the same, and started the car. It stalled.   
  
"Buffy, luv?" Spike asked. "Something wrong?"   
  
"No," She said quickly. "It's just been awhile since I've driven a standard." He nodded and watched as she closed her eyes and said a few silent words before trying again. This time it turned over. She flashed him a triumphant smile and shifted into reverse and started to back up.   
  
And she stalled again.   
  
Spike hid a buzzed smile as she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. Buffy started the car again and backed up, shifted into first and started driving. She gave a sigh of relief that she had some knowledge of how to drive stick and followed Spike's directions to the liquor store. A few minutes, and a hesitant and jerky ride later he was there and walking fairly steadily into the store. He emerged shortly with a brown paper bag and got back into the car. Buffy had kept it running so she wouldn't have to start it again and pulled back into the street with a few jerks.   
  
"So back to your house now?" She asked. Spike shook his head as he opened the bottle in his bag and took a long drink. It burned on the way down. Just the way he liked it.   
  
"I want to show you something," he told her. She nodded and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the way he was chugging back the alcohol. He directed her through the town, to the edge where they reached a section of woods before the mountains. He pointed her to a dirt road and she took it, noticing she was driving upwards. She put the headlights on bright and watched the road carefully to make sure she didn't drive them into a tree.   
  
Finally, they came to a clearing and Spike directed her to the edge, protected by a guardrail. She stopped the car and looked out the windshield over the edge of the mountain at the entire town. Spike watched her closely as she took it in, smiling at the lights shining up at them.   
  
"We're in luck. It's deserted tonight. Not very often that that happens up here. Usually pretty popular," Spike commented, titling his bottle back again.   
  
"It's so pretty!" Buffy breathed. It was as if she was watching from above again, seeing everything so small and from far away. It made her a little homesick, not that she could technically relate that feeling to her existence above because of the entity that she was.   
  
Spike reached out with his free hand and caught a lock of her hair. She turned to him, surprised and watched as he ran it through his fingers. "You're very pretty, Buffy," he whispered to her. She watched him, breathless as he edged closer to her across the bench seat. He sat the half-empty bottle of liquor down on the floor between then and captured her face in both hands.   
  
Buffy's mouth went dry as he leaned in close to her. He breathed in her scent and dropped a short kiss on her cheek. Buffy didn't pull away, unable to move from his hands, his eyes, his lips. Spike closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to hers, chastely, waiting to see what she would do. Buffy brought one shaky hand up to caress his cheek, the other one paralyzed in her lap. Spike took this as a sign of encouragement and kissed her in earnest. Buffy responded, tasting the alcohol on his lips and the faint memory of cigarettes, even though he hadn't had one since he picked her up.   
  
Spike moved a hand to her hair so he could angle her head the right way and opened his mouth, letting his tongue skim her lips. He pushed at her mouth, demanding entrance more than asking and she opened to him, unsure of what else to do. His other hand drifted down her neck stroking there with rough fingers before trailing down her arm to her stomach. He pressed his hand there, rubbing up and down slowly. Buffy relaxed and started to get the hang of the kissing thing, letting her tongue massage his. A sound escaped from her throat that she had never heard before, a moan. She tensed, wondering if it was bad and Spike pulled away.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, dazed. Buffy just nodded, licking her lips. Spike's eyes darkened with desire and he caught her mouth again. Buffy let her hand move into his hair, much the same as his hand was in her hair and she played with the curls there. His other hand started moving against her belly again stroking and rubbing more insistently. He moved down to the hem of her shirt and slipped his fingers underneath, caressing the skin there. Buffy jumped lightly and Spike chuckled against her fingers. But he didn't move away.   
  
Buffy tried to pull away as his hand slid further under her shirt. He slid it around her, and splayed it on her back, moving up and down and started fiddling with the clasp on her bra. Buffy jerked away then and brought her hands to his chest. Spike stared at her confused.   
  
"Spike, I… that's too fast," Buffy explained. Spike nodded dumbly and leaned in to kiss her again. His hands started wandering and moved to slip under her shirt again. Buffy pushed him away more forcefully this time and got out of the car. Spike stumbled out after her.   
  
"Buffy! Wait - I… I'm sorry," he told her. Buffy held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks.   
  
"Just... stay there. You're drunk. I – I - don't want to do that with you, Spike," Buffy told him. Spike looked lost for a moment before he turned and ducked back into the car. He came out with the bottle and tipped it back violently, some spilling out around his mouth.   
  
"Spike! Can you put down the bottle! Please! Just… stop!" Buffy begged him. Spike shook his head and stumbled over to the guardrail to the edge of the mountain and looked down.   
  
"I can't, Buffy," he told her quietly. She edged closer to him so she could hear him and noticed that he was crying.   
  
"Oh, Spike," she whispered and laid a hand on his back. He jerked away and swung around to glare at her.   
  
"I can't stop! And I can't go. And I can't do _anything_ right. I drink to feel but I can't feel because it _hurts_ so fucking much! I try to do something - anything normal in my life and it's foreign to me. I don't know what to say or do or act or feel. I don't know how to make it _go away_! I can't talk to my friends, or tell them how it is for me cause I don't even know. I act like a complete bastard to everyone, including you, who I don't even know. And that's what I want to do Buffy. I want to know you. Because under normal circumstances I'd be all over you. I'm trying so hard to make everything right, to make it be like it was but it isn't and it never will be. I don't know who I am anymore, Buffy! And I'm so scared that I'll never know," Spike cried harder until he was shaking and sobbing from the effort. He shook his head and looked out over the town again, his vision blurry. Buffy bit on her lip and felt a tear run down her cheek, her whole body aching from his pain.   
  
Spike took a deep breath and swiped at his eyes, dropping the bottle to the ground where it smashed to pieces. Then he stepped over the guardrail to the edge of the mountain. Buffy gasped and stepped forward to grab his arm. He shook her off and snarled at her.   
  
"Spike! No! What are you doing?" Buffy tried to grab at him again but he brushed her off again and turned to look at her.   
  
"I can't do this anymore, Buffy. I'm lost. I hurt so much and it won't stop. I can't drink it away, I can't bury it deep inside myself, I can't _make it stop_!" he yelled. Buffy flinched but didn't move. "I want it to. I _have_ to make it stop, Buffy. And this is the only way I can do it."   
  
Buffy slapped him. He swayed on his feet slightly and blinked at her. He wasn't sure he had ever seen anyone look so angry in all his life.   
  
"Jesus Christ, Spike. I never thought you were this selfish. Your mother died, yes. Do you think she wanted to? Do you think she wanted to leave you here, to leave her friends, her life? And here you are, ready to throw it all away willingly. I know things aren't easy. I know you're having a hard time right now but you're also being a stupid, selfish bastard. You want to inflict the same pain you're feeling on other people? Your friends, your dad? You want to give up so easily what she was fighting for as hard as she could?" Buffy grabbed his arm again and shook him for good measure. Spike stumbled slightly and clutched at her arm, unable to speak. "Is that what you want Spike? Because that's what happens when you make it stop."   
  
He looked into her fiery eyes, his own wide and shining. His whole body seemed to grow tired then, his shoulders slumping, as his knees grew weak. Buffy helped him over the guardrail and held him by the arms so she could look him in his shocked, disbelieving face. She cupped his cheek with one hand and he closed his eyes, letting her warmth seep into him. He felt a sob well up inside him.   
  
The next thing he knew he was being cradled in Buffy's arms, slumped on the ground as he wailed, his chest aching from his hiccups and deep coughing breaths. Buffy just rocked him back and forth, smoothing his hair back and whispering soothing sounds in his ear as his tears soaked into her shirt. 

* * *

Reviewing makes chapters come faster! Well, not really, but it pushes me to get off my ass to work harder if you like my stuff! ** Review me! **


	6. Trying Hard to Bring You Back to Joy

**Part 4: Trying Hard to Bring You Back to Joy**

* * *

A/N: Great thanks to Magz for posting this for me while I was off in NYC! I guess AOI is up next but I'd like to get another chapter of it done before I post 18. And I am BEYOND exhausted right now and have CRAPLOADS of work to do, so please be patient. I'm working as fast and as hard as I can. Enjoy and remember to review! 

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Buffy pulled Spike's car into his driveway and turned it off. She turned to him, sitting in the passenger seat and laid her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.   
  
Spike jumped, lost in his own thoughts. He turned to look at her with wide eyes. He realized they were finally home and shook his head. It was very late and he was exhausted. He had cried in Buffy's arms for well over an hour before she had managed to get him in the car.   
  
"Spike? You're home," Buffy told him softly. He nodded.   
  
"I know," he replied hoarsely. "Buffy?"   
  
"Yeah?" She brushed the hair off his forehead, concerned for him but also selfishly enjoying the way his hair felt under her fingers. He closed his eyes and sighed.   
  
"I don't want to go in there. Do I have to? Can I stay with you?" He opened his eyes again and stared at her with a begging look. Buffy nodded and gave him a small smile.   
  
"Yeah, you can stay in the guest room. Come on." She got out of the car and went around to open his door. He got out slowly and looked up at the sky, watching the stars for a moment before he noticed she was holding her hand out to him. He took it and held tightly, allowing her to lead him out of his driveway and into her yard. They crossed the lawn and he still clutched her hand as she got her keys out and opened the door. She led him inside and turned on the light. He blinked.   
  
"Do you want anything? Some water? Something to eat? Do you want to stay down here and watch a movie or TV?" Buffy asked. Spike shook his head. "Okay, come on."   
  
Buffy started up the stairs slowly, pulling on his hand. He followed and found it hard to lift his legs high enough to climb. He was so tired, he just wanted to lie down and sleep for days.   
  
"You're in luck," Buffy told him when she showed him to the spare room and turned on the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the room. "I just got this room situated and set up a couple days ago."   
  
"Yeah," Spike said hollowly. "Lucky me." Buffy dropped his hand and pulled the covers back. She made him sit down and crouched to take his shoes and socks off. As she did that Spike slowly unbuttoned his shirt. When Buffy looked up at him her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp. Spike either didn't notice or was too tired to register it because he didn't notice her reaction to seeing his toned and muscular body emerge from under the shirt. She stood quickly and smiled again, tightly this time.   
  
"So want me to wake you in the morning?" Buffy asked, moving to the door as Spike got under the covers.   
  
"Buffy?" Spike looked up at her with wide eyes. "Can- uh… can you stay here? With me? I don't want to be alone."   
  
"Of course," Buffy replied immediately. She pulled the bench from the vanity toward the bed and sat beside him. He frowned.   
  
"You can't sleep on that," he told her. He moved over in the bed and flipped the covers back. Buffy got red and looked away. "I promise not to try anything. I just… I need to be close to someone right now. I feel so alone and you help that, a lot. Can you just stay here with me until I fall sleep? Please?"   
  
Buffy bit her lip and stood, toeing off her shoes and pulling her socks off. She slid into the bed and turned on her side, facing away from him. She jumped when he tucked the blankets around her and folded his arm around her waist, spooning her. He felt her tense and pulled away a little.   
  
"Sorry," he muttered. Buffy shook her head.   
  
"No, it's okay. You just surprised me. I'm glad you're here Spike. I'll help you however I can, no matter what." Buffy turned her head so she could look at him. He gave her a small smile back and slowly folded his body around her again. She didn't protest or tense this time so he relaxed and allowed his eyes to drift close.   
  
"Thank you Buffy," he whispered faintly before falling asleep, his breath tickling her ear. Buffy listened to his breathing as it evened out and gave a quick sigh of relief. She relaxed herself and wondered of she should go back to her room now. She intended to, but the more she thought about it, the more tired she got and didn't want to leave this bed. The last thing she remembered was smiling softly as Spike's arm tightened around her waist in his sleep, pulling her closer against his naked chest.   
  


* * *

Sunlight streamed through the lacy curtain in the spare room and fell on Buffy who was fast sleep. She rolled over to escape the bright light and almost fell out of bed. She woke up with a start and not in her own room. She glanced over her shoulder and found herself alone. She sat up and yawned, running a hand through her hair. She listened hard, trying to hear Spike in the bathroom or puttering around downstairs but she heard nothing but silence.   
  
She stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, checking the bathroom and her room on the way as well as the living room when she got to the first floor. She frowned and went to the kitchen and didn't find him there either. She glanced out the backdoor and noticed a couple smushed cigarette butts on the back stoop but other than that he was gone. With a gasp she ran through the house and out the front door in her bare feet, wrinkled clothes and sleep tousled hair to Spike's house. She knocked hard on the door, praying someone answered. A few long minutes later Ethan opened the door in his robe, holding a cup of coffee.   
  
"Buffy! To what do I owe this early morning visit?" He asked.   
  
"Is Spike here? Did he come back?" She asked hurriedly. Ethan raised an eyebrow at her.   
  
"He did come home, this morning. Mumbled something about you and went up to his room, then came back down about twenty minutes later showered and changed and left. Did something happen?" Ethan asked, taking in her disheveled appearance.   
  
"No, nothing like that. We- last night we just got talking at my house and fell asleep and when I woke up Spike wasn't there so I was just concerned, is all. Yeah," Buffy explained. Ethan nodded.   
  
"Great. Good to see you could finally get my son out of his room and maybe out of his funk for a little while. I can't thank you enough," Ethan smiled at her. Buffy gave him a small smile back and rocked on her heels. "Want me to get him to call you when he gets in?"   
  
"Sure, that'd be great," Buffy nodded. She told him she'd see him later and left his porch quickly, her feet slapping on his walkway. Ethan watched her go and shook her head. She was an odd girl. Pretty, and seemed to be good for Spike, but odd.   
  


* * *

Spike knocked on the door and waited, jiggling his foot. He was looking down the hall, checking out the few students milling about when the door finally opened. He turned back and gave the person on the other side a smile.   
  
"Hey, Red," he said softly.   
  
"Spike?" Willow Rosenburg asked.   
  
"Come on Willow, it hasn't been that long since I've seen you," Spike told her defensively. Willow studied him for a moment before opening the door wider and stepping out to give him a hug.   
  
"Hey Spike. It's good to see you," She told him. They pulled apart and she invited him inside her room, gesturing for him to sit. He sat in her desk chair while she sat on her bed. "So?"   
  
"I've been an ass." He shrugged. "Plain and simple. And I'm sorry."   
  
"Oh, Spike. It's not your fault. You were going through a difficult time. I admit that it hurt when you just brushed us off, but I get it."   
  
"Just the same, I feel awful. And it wasn't right. I'd like to make it up to you. You and Tara and Xander and Anya. I kind of owe them anyway, for showin' up on their stoop out of my tree," Spike sighed and ran a hand through his short spiky hair.   
  
"I heard. I've been worried about you." Willow shook her head. "School starts soon, you know."   
  
"Yeah, and I'm goin' back. I don't have anythin' better to do and I think I need to get into something again. Get my mind off things, get working toward feeling better." Spike nodded.   
  
Willow stared at him for a moment. "Who is she?" She asked. Spike raised his eyebrows, surprised.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Who's the girl?"   
  
"What girl?"   
  
"The one who's got you thinking straight again," Willow said. Spike sputtered for a second and blushed before sighing.   
  
"Name's Buffy. She's my new neighbor, going to UC Sunnydale, too. And it's not like that. I can see the wheels moving in your head, Red. She's… different," Spike said, a thoughtful look on his face.   
  
"Different?" Willow asked skeptically.   
  
"She's not like other girls I've met. There's _something_ about her that draws me in. She's beautiful, yes, but she's more then that. She's helped me out in the past little bit. I've talked to her and she's opened my eyes on some things," Spike explained.   
  
"So are you together?" Willow asked, curious as to who this new woman in Spike's life was.   
  
"No. Well- no. I… We went out last night. And I kissed her. I think she liked it. Actually, I know she liked it, but I was drunk and went and made a mess of everything. Then she took me home and we slept together," Spike told Willow, whose eyes bugged out.   
  
"You slept with her? Spike!"   
  
"What? No! I mean, she took me to her house and I was a wreck so she stayed with me. In the bed. All clothes were on. Well, except for my shirt and our shoes and socks. Will, I was scared last night. More scared then I've been in awhile. And she was there for me. She helped me through it and brought me back," Spike explained slowly.   
  
"We could have been there for you," Willow replied softly. Spike closed his eyes and nodded.   
  
"I know. I threw your offers of help and support in your faces, and I can't apologize enough. I've come to make it up to you. I want to take everyone out to dinner, as a peace offering. I need to find my friends again."   
  
"We were never lost Spike. We've just been waiting for you to realize it," Willow smiled at him. "And I think dinner would be nice. We've missed you."   
  
Spike gave a quick sigh of relief and smiled back. "That's great."   
  
"So, are you bringing this new girl to dinner?" Willow asked.   
  
"I don't know. Hadn't really thought about it. I… think I like her. But I'm not sure. She's been such a good friend, you know? I don't want to mess that up."   
  
"I think you should bring her. She's going to UC Sunnydale with us so we can meet her and be friendly faces for her. And if things happen between the two of you, things happen. You can't stop your life from going on," Willow told him gently. Spike smiled at her.   
  
"So I've been told. You'll tell me what you think of her, if I bring her? Your opinion means a lot to me. You and Xander are about the closest thing I have to real family right now," Spike confided, ducking his head.   
  
"Oh, Spike, of course. We'll be there with bells on! And I'm sure we'll like her. As long as she isn't, you know, evil or psychotic or something."   
  
"Yeah, yeah," Spike laughed, rolling his eyes at the slight dig at his exes. But he didn't want to think of them right then and so instead he talked with Willow for a while, catching up on her life. He had forgotten how much fun it was to just talk with one of his oldest and dearest friends. He had fun too, laughing and making plans for things to do in the coming weeks. He realized that he didn't feel guilty about it either.   
  
Reluctantly he told Willow he had to get going and promised he'd call her later about dinner. Then her went to Xander and Anya's to make a proper apology for being such an ass a few days earlier. He and Xander sat out on the back deck and talked for some time, avoiding topics that involved his mom or his drinking. The conversation eventually steered toward Buffy and Spike found himself explaining to Xander what he had told Buffy.   
  
"So invite her," Xander told him.   
  
"That would be the easy thing to do, wouldn't it?" Spike told him. Xander looked confused.   
  
"It's not so much that I feel guilty over liking her right now, just that I was so weak in front of her. She didn't seem to care but I can't help but wonder what she thinks about me now," Spike said.   
  
"Well what did she say this morning when you work up?" Xander asked. Spike looked down and mumbled.   
  
"I was gone before she got up."   
  
"That probably wasn't a good move, buddy."   
  
"Probably not. I didn't want to face it, you know?"   
  
"You've been avoiding a lot of things lately, Spike. Maybe it's time to start," Xander finally told him, after a few moments of deliberation. Spike sighed and nodded.   
  
"It's time to start getting my life back, hm?" Xander nodded.   
  


* * *

Buffy heard the doorbell ring the next morning and wrapped a towel around her head quickly. She dashed down the stairs and opened the door without checking to see who it was. She let out a small gasp when she saw Spike standing there with his hand behind his back.   
  
"I always seem to surprise you when I show up here, eh?" He asked with a small smile. He pulled his hand out from behind his back and showed her a small bouquet of wildflowers he'd brought her from the florist. Buffy took them and stepped aside, letting him in.   
  
"I'm sorry," he told her before she could say anything. "I know I probably scared you yesterday, not bein' here when you work up but I just couldn't stay. I appreciate all you did for me, you have no idea. But it was a little too much for me right now."   
  
Buffy nodded and held the collar of her robe closed with her other hand. She still didn't say anything so Spike took that as a sign to go on. "I owe you- big time. I think I hit rock bottom and you were there to pick me back up. So in small gesture of repayment I'd like to take you out to dinner again." Seeing her skeptical look he went on. "With me and my friends. I need to do some serious ass kissing with them too, so I've asked them to dinner, my treat. I'd like you to come and meet them."   
  
Buffy was silent for a few more minutes. She was relieved more than anything to see him standing in front of her, healthy and alive. She knew that she was here to help him but she couldn't help the anger and hurt she had felt when she had walked back to her house yesterday after talking to his father. She had felt used by him. However he had come back to her and brought a peace offering. She brought the flowers to her nose and smelled them. "Okay," she finally said. "I'll go."   
  
Spike smiled broadly at her. "Great. I'd like to take everyone out before school starts next week so how about this Saturday? Are you free?"   
  
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," She turned and walked to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. He followed her hesitantly.   
  
"I'm sorry," he told her again. She laid the flowers on the cupboard and turned to face him.   
  
"You scared me," she told him, feeling tears prick her eyes. "That night and then yesterday when I woke up. I didn't know where to find you- if I'd find you at all. I wasn't brought here for this."   
  
"Hey," Spike told her, moving closer to her. He took her in his arms carefully, not sure how she'd respond. She let herself he drawn in but was stiff in his arms until he started rubbing his hand up and down her back and she started to relax. "I was a jerk, okay? But if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be here right now. I'm better because of you." He was quiet for a moment. "You weren't brought here for this? What were you brought here for?"   
  
Buffy sniffed and looked up at him. "I just meant I'm not used to this. I shouldn't be like this. I'm acting as if I'm the one hurt here, and I'm not. I'm sorry."   
  
Spike shook his head and smiled. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Like I said, you've helped me more than you know. Thank you." He rested his head on top of hers and sighed, wondering why this felt so right. "I don't know if you want to hear this or how appropriate it is, but I think I really like you."   
  
Buffy felt her heart beat faster and the bottom of her world fall away. She was stunned. He liked _ her_? This wasn't supposed to happen. She was sent here to help him, to ease his pain. He wasn't supposed to make her feel like this- so special and important. She wasn't supposed to like him too. It just wasn't meant to happen.   
  
But it had.   
  
She laid her head on his chest and blinked, wondering what she could do. She could still feel his pain so she knew he still needed her help which meant she could be here, in this body, living in this house and near him for awhile. She was living as a human, having human emotions no matter how much she tried to resist them.   
  
With a sigh she murmured, "I think I really like you to." 

* * *

What happens next? Find out in Part 6.   
  
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